


Four-Card Fold

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Multi, Strip Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy and River persuade the Doctor and Rory to play strip poker. Foursome ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four-Card Fold

**Author's Note:**

> For kimberleigh_ <3

It’s something River would think of, but actually, it’s Amy’s idea. “Let’s play strip poker,” she says.

“Strip,” the Doctor repeats slowly, “poker?”

“Yeah, come on,” Amy prods him. River is grinning. The Doctor is learning which of River’s grins means he’ll have a sinking feeling and end up looking ridiculous, and this is that grin.

“You want me,” the Doctor needs to stall for so long they get bored of the idea, “to play strip poker?”

“What’s the matter?” River winks at him. “Shy?”

“No, I just don’t see any need to remove my clothes in front of you. Rory — Rory, back me up, here.”

“The Doctor’s right,” Rory tries. Valiantly, the Doctor notes. “Let’s — let’s just play a normal game of poker.”

“Yeah, only we get our kit off.” Amy will not let this go.

“Right,” Rory says. Perhaps he’s regrouping.

“Well, I’m not doing it. You three can do your,” the Doctor waves a hand, “naked thing, and I will make the tea.”

River and Amy are looking at each other in that way that _always_ means trouble. The Doctor sighs.

“I’ll — I’ll just get some mugs,” Rory mutters. The Doctor follows him to the kitchen. It’s a minute’s walk from the console room, where the broken bits and the squiggly bits need a few hours to meld together before the Doctor can attach the stringy bits and get the brakes working again.

“Thanks for trying,” the Doctor says, as they walk.

“You know what they’re like,” Rory shrugs. “We’ll have to do it, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” the Doctor waves a hand dismissively. “There’s no getting out of it, is there?”

“Afraid not.” They arrive at the kitchen, put the kettle on, and then Rory says, “ _Are_ you shy? About taking your clothes off, I mean.”

The Doctor shrugs. “Not especially. I just don’t see the point.”

“Well,” Rory struggles, “it’s fun. I mean — well, Amy used to make me play strip poker with her all the time. Something about the slow undressing, the need to keep remembering the rules while you’re distracted — er,” he starts, as though he hadn’t realised he’d still been speaking aloud. “I mean, that’s part of the appeal, I … hear.”

The Doctor turns to face him. “Rory Williams, I never would have thought it of you. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He laughs, claps him on the shoulder, and picks the now-blue kettle up.

“Wait, did that boil? I didn’t hear anything.” Rory looks at it, head slightly tilted. He’s disquietingly attractive when he does that.

“It’s a silent kettle. The light goes blue when it’s boiled.” He holds it up, then pours the water into mugs Rory has set out and dropped tea bags into.

“Oh,” Rory says, smiling. “When do we get that, then? Or is it not an Earth invention?”

“Spoilers,” says a voice from the doorway. River is standing there, looking pleased. “Do you boys need a hand?”

“Biscuits,” the Doctor mumbles, indicating a large tin with his elbow. There always has to be biscuits, it’s not tea without them.

“Of course,” River says, sidling past him. He clears his throat and follows Rory out of the kitchen door. “We’re in the third study on the right,” River calls after them.

Rory opens the door with his upper arm. This study is one of the Doctor’s favourites; orange and blue décor, large Kablian fish in bowls around the room, a small tree growing out of one wall. Peaceful.

He sets two mugs down in front of Amy. “Well, let’s get on with it then,” he says, folding himself into a chair next to Rory. “Does my bowtie count as one piece of clothing?”

“Yes,” River answers, coming through the door with the biscuit tin in one hand and a box in the other. It’s one of those boxes he keeps from bakeries; this one says _AMIJAD’S FINEST_ in New New New New New Persian on the side.

“Right,” Amy says, when everyone’s seated, “you all know the rules, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rory nods.

“Draw, stud, community card, Abroxian, Artrotian, Nyxter, or —” River starts.

“Let’s — let’s just deal some cards and see what happens, okay?” Amy interrupts. “Unless we all know the rules of five-card draw, because I know that one.”

Everyone else nods, so the Doctor reluctantly says, “Yes, I know that one.”

Amy is the dealer, somewhat unsurprisingly. The Doctor has a fairly terrible hand, as hands go, so when the betting starts he just says “My bowtie, and my braces,” which Amy boos.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” she grins at him.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to.” The Doctor shifts, thankful for the many layers he habitually wears this time. Perhaps he’ll stay mostly clothed.

He doesn’t.

By the time Amy and River are in their bras, Rory is wearing nothing but his underwear and the Doctor isn’t even wearing that. He has all of his limbs folded strategically, what he knows must be a sour expression on his face, and they still won’t let him get dressed. “But I’ve lost, I’m out of the game,” he protests.

“The _point_ is to get _naked_ ,” Amy explains for the seventh time. “You have achieved the point, Doctor. You’ve won. Now you have to give the rest of us a chance to catch up with you.”

“Doesn’t feel like I’ve won,” he mutters into his chest. River raises an eyebrow in that searing way of hers, and the Doctor feels bad. It always makes him feel bad, whether he‘s done something to feel bad about or not.

He glances at Rory, hoping for some sort of encouragement or solidarity, but instead catches him looking. Looking at the Doctor’s naked body. Quite a lot, and also blushing.

Well well well, that _is_ interesting. The Doctor watches Rory surreptitiously as he loses and has to take his underwear off. He crosses his legs and holds the discarded underwear over his crotch, but the Doctor could already see that he’s hard, so it doesn’t do much.

Amy loses her bra, then River loses hers, and there is so much sexual tension washing around over the table that the Doctor notices it. He’s been told, many a time, that if _he’s_ noticing it, things must really be dire.

“Well,” he claps his hands together bracingly, “I think I’ll go and see how the squiggly bits are doing.”

“Wait,” Rory says, so quickly he can’t have meant to say it at all.

“I think we’d better move this to another venue,” River observes. She’s reaching out to stroke a fingertip over the curve of Amy’s breasts. Amy appears to be enjoying it.

“There’s a bedroom just up the corridor,” the Doctor finds himself saying. He wants to, he realises, take part in whatever this is turning into. Particularly if it involves kissing Rory, he’d really quite like to do that. Excessively.

Rory grasps at Amy as they go, the Doctor leading, River’s hands on his hips quite pleasantly. Once they get to the bedroom, River gently takes Amy’s hand and links their fingers. Amy slows the kissing with Rory — perhaps they’ll have time to breathe now — and breaks away, following as River beckons her to the bed. Amy lies down, wriggling out of her skirt (the only piece of clothing she had left) as River takes off her own trousers and underwear. The Doctor watches them for a minute, kissing quite vigorously and touching each other everywhere in reach (and some places the Doctor thought mightn’t be in reach), until he feels something on his arm. Rory is touching him, very gingerly running his fingertips up and down the Doctor’s skin.

“Are you —” Rory’s tongue runs along his lower lip, “do you want to —”

The Doctor kisses him. For a few seconds it’s just lovely, and then Rory starts to back him against the wall and kiss him a little desperately. Lots of tongue, lots of small noises. It reminds him of the few times this has happened, a young human man grinding against his hip, panting into his mouth. He kisses back with enthusiasm, grinding against the pressure, hands steadying Rory.

“Oi,” Amy calls over from the bed. “Boys, you’d better get over here.”

The Doctor leads Rory, who seems sort of helpless with arousal, to the bed. They lie next to Amy and River, the Doctor on top of Rory. Amy links her hand with Rory’s and smiles at him as River works some fingers inside her and the Doctor remembers that this is the point where he should wrap a hand around Rory’s cock and very gently pull.

Rory and Amy moan at the same time, the Doctor catches River’s eye and grins, and this is fun, this is _so much_ fun.


End file.
